


A Twist of Fate

by xxenjoy



Series: October prompts 2020 [13]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Love Potion, Anal Sex, M/M, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, love potion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:14:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26984230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxenjoy/pseuds/xxenjoy
Summary: When Jaskier accidentally takes a love potion, Geralt helps him through it.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: October prompts 2020 [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950757
Comments: 12
Kudos: 377





	A Twist of Fate

**Author's Note:**

> Ayyy this got super long. I'm not 100% happy with the ending, but I have no more time. Barely edited and barely re-read, sorry for any errors or inconsistencies that I missed.

After so many years together, Geralt and Jaskier have developed a system of sorts for large gatherings. Jaskier loves being surrounded by people, loves the food and drink and song and will gladly spend hours upon hours dancing with whichever lord or lady catches his eye. Geralt is very much the opposite. The only reason he attends is either to keep an eye on Jaskier or to support him if he's performing. Otherwise, he'd rather be in the forest sharpening his swords or something. 

As such, they've developed a signal for when Geralt has reached his limit of entertainment; he'll catch Jaskier's eye over the crowd - not difficult to do when Jaskier always has one eye on him anyway - and nod toward the door with his head. It's a statement as much as it is a question. _I'm heading upstairs_ but also _are you coming_? Most nights Jaskier will remain for a while, enjoying the energy of whatever party they're attending, but on rare occasions, he'll turn in early.

Tonight it's the latter. He's finished his set and the main event is over - the engagement announcement of an old friend - and Geralt is looking quite spectacular tonight if he does say so himself. It’s an important event for Jaskier, so Geralt had let him pick out his outfit and had only complained once. Which, to be fair, was about the tightness of the sleeves around his arms. Next time, they'll just go to Elihal and have something made for him. But either way, he looks stunning tonight in black and gold and Jaskier is overflowing with pride that _he's_ the one who gets to leave with him. Even if it doesn't lead to anything more than getting to sleep by his side. 

So when Geralt rises from his seat, Jaskier is already prepared to leave. Being alone in their room is certain to prove frustrating because even surrounded by old friends, Jaskier can't keep his eyes off of him. Geralt nods and Jaskier smiles and mimics the gesture, earning him a soft smile from Geralt that makes his stomach flip. He bids a quick goodnight to the group he's talking to and quickly slips through the crowd to say a final congratulations to his friend before sneaking away. 

There's a table of drinks to one side of the room and he grabs one on his way out; he'll certainly need the encouragement. He quickly downs the drink, setting the cup back down on the table before making his way through the halls.

He's barely left the hall when his head starts to feel strange, but he puts it down to the liquor being stronger than expected and continues on. But by the time he reaches their room, he's sweating. Heat prickles at his skin and there's an uncomfortable heaviness in his chest that he can't quite place. In a terrifying moment of realization, he wonders if he's been poisoned because something is certainly not right here. He's had his share of drunken nights and no matter how much he's had to drink, he's never felt like _this_. Even as he turns the handle and pushes into the room, his body continues rapidly heating up and he knows from experience that that is never good. 

But when the door swings open, the rest of his body becomes a background thought as his cock twitches in his trousers. He must be gawking because Geralt lifts an eyebrow at him skeptically but Jaskier hardly registers it. Geralt is standing in the room, clearly in the process of getting undressed. His fingers linger on the buttons of his doublet which is open, baring his barely covered chest to the world. Despite his brain ceasing to function, Jaskier thinks this might be why Geralt so often calls him promiscuous. He does look quite lewd like this and _oh_ the things that does to him. 

Arousal burns through him and Jaskier swallows hard in an attempt to tamp it down, to no avail. If anything the swell of need increases, which is... not normal. Jaskier has spent half his life forcing down his attraction to the Witcher, so much so that he'd call himself an expert at denying himself. But tonight, his body has different ideas. 

Geralt's eyes flick downward then back up, skeptical. 

"You didn't have to come up with me," he says, "if you wanted to find a partner for the night, I wouldn't have minded."

Jaskier frowns in confusion. He learned the hard way long ago that Geralt can smell many things, his arousal being one of them, but this is not an uncommon occurrence. He shifts his stance and- _oh, when did that happen?_ His cock is hard, pressing uncomfortably against the front of his trousers now that he's aware of it. That is... not the worst thing that's happened to him in Geralt's company, but the fact that he didn't notice worries him a little. 

"Oh, er, I- I didn't."

"Jaskier," Geralt says slowly, taking a step toward him. "Are you alright?"

"Well actually, now that you-" Geralt steps into his space and Jaskier's skin prickles all over. "No, I don't think so." 

"Your pupils are dilated," he mutters and Jaskier just shifts uncomfortably. This close, he can feel the heat radiating from Geralt's body and his body burns with the need to touch, to get his hands under that shirt and just touch him. "How do you feel?"

"Hot." 

Geralt presses a hand to his forehead and Jaskier groans as a wave of pleasure washes over him. That is definitely not normal. His body is incredibly sensitive in a lot of places, but his forehead is not one of them. 

" _Oh_ ," he breathes and he presses forward into the touch. "That feels _incredible_." Geralt's frown deepens but Jaskier finds it hard to be concerned when Geralt's fingers slip down to tip his chin up. He shuts his eyes and hums. 

"Did you take a drink from anyone?" Geralt asks and the words almost go unnoticed as Jaskier is overcome with another surge of arousal. " _Jaskier_ ," Geralt growls, pushing firmly with both hands on his shoulders, " _focus_." Jaskier looks up at him and his mouth goes dry. 

Geralt's face is pinched in concern but it's hard to worry about that because with his hair tied back like that and that doublet he looks so fucking sexy. He always does, but seeing him like this makes Jaskier's stomach drop in the most delightful way. 

"Hmm?" he asks and Geralt sighs. 

"Drinks, Jaskier. Did you take a drink from anyone you don't know."

"No, I'm not stupid, Geralt." He leans in, pressing his hands to Geralt's chest without thinking and _oh_ \- Gods, he could touch him all day and never tire of it, but- "I did grab a drink from the table," he hums and Geralt takes his hands, gently removing them from his chest, much to Jaskier's displeasure. 

"Fuck."

"I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't drink so much but sometimes it's hard." He curls his fingers around Geralt's, stroking his hands. "I just want to touch you all the time and it's so hard not to."

"Jaskier I think you drank a love potion."

He freezes at that. "So I haven't been poisoned?" he asks cautiously.

"Unlikely," Geralt confirms, quickly detangling their fingers and pulling away, "but this could be much worse."

"How?" He's already reaching for Geralt again, desperate for the smallest touch, but Geralt steps away, crosses to lean against the wall at the other side of the room. 

"Love potions vary depending on their intended purpose," he says and Jaskier climbs up on the bed where he can be closer. He flops down on his stomach and his cock slips against the inside of his trousers, pulling a soft moan from him as he tries to get comfortable. Geralt clears his throat and continues.

"Some twist other emotions to make someone fall in love - usually with a designated person. Some just enhance already existing feelings. Those ones can go very wrong very quickly if you ingest too much or if the formula isn't correct. Some of them create a false sense of love for as long as the potion remains in your system."

"For how long?"

"It depends on your metabolism. For me? Much shorter than for you. Some of them aren't _love_ potions at all but are still classified as such. Probably because it's more acceptable to make love potions than sexual enhancers."

"And those ones?" Jaskier asks weakly, resisting the urge to rock his hips against the mattress. 

"Make you desperate," Geralt says blandly, which seems cruel when Jaskier's whole body feels like it's about to combust. 

"Which do you think this is?" he asks, but he suspects he knows the answer already considering it's taking every ounce of his control not to reach out and pull Geralt onto the bed with him. 

"Tell me how you feel."

"Like I'm burning up from the inside out. Like I'm losing control."

"Hot?"

"Very."

"And still aroused," Geralt comments. Jaskier just presses his face into the covers and groans. "Is it constant?"

"No," Jaskier mumbles, "it uh, feels better when you touch me."

"Hmm."

"What does that mean?" Jaskier looks to see Geralt uncrossing his arms and coming toward him. His pulse spikes and it feels like his heart is in his throat. 

"Like this?" Geralt asks, pressing a hand to his shoulder. Another place Jaskier isn't particularly sensitive, but the simple touch makes him ache and he groans as his hips press forward instinctively. "Does it feel like it's getting any worse?" Jaskier pulls himself up, crossing his legs under him as Geralt pulls away. 

"Not really."

"It will."

"What?" Jaskier squawks. It's the first time he's felt anything but overwhelming need since he came up to the room, but the fear of more isn't better. 

"Don't worry," Geralt says gently, "I'll be here."

"That's... actually not comforting, Geralt. What does that mean?"

"You're going to get far more desperate before it gets better, you'll need touch and I'm not going to just sit here and watch you suffer." Jaskier's breath catches and he can't believe Geralt is saying this to him. 

"Do you mean you'll-"

"Just be glad it wasn't intended for you or I wouldn't be able to help. I'd have to take you to Yen or you'd have to fuck the idiot who did this to you to ease the discomfort."

"I'm not sure it was done _to me_ , per se. I am glad it's not poison though."

"You won't be saying that in a few minutes."

Geralt is right, unfortunately, and after barely five minutes, Jaskier can barely stand the way his skin prickles with the need to be touched. He's hot all over, sweating through his clothes, but taking off his doublet does nothing but apparently make him more sensitive to the fabric of his shirt against his skin. He whimpers as it brushes against a nipple and arches off the bed. 

He's propped up on the pillows and it's taking all of his self-control not to roll over and rut against the bed. Even the thought of it makes his cock throb in its confinement and he very nearly shoves a hand down his trousers to ease the need. A sound catches his attention at the last moment and he looks up to find Geralt, divested of his doublet and tugging his shirt out of his trousers. 

Jaskier's eyes catch the thin strip of skin above his waistband and he moans out loud as the shirt lifts, giving way to a vast expanse of skin practically begging Jaskier to touch it. Geralt tugs his boots off and climbs up onto the end of the bed, crawling up and pushes Jaskier's ankles apart to kneel between them. 

"Geralt," Jaskier chokes, shaking his head. 

He can't get the words out, but Geralt can't do this, he doesn't understand what it means to him. Suddenly the ache doesn't feel so bad and he's sure if he went off somewhere for a little while, he could work through it on his own. How long could it take for the potion to work through his system, anyway?

"Shh," Geralt whispers, leaning forward on his hands. 

He's too close now and Jaskier has to shut his eyes because feeling him so close is already hard enough. His fingers twitch against the bed and he wants to touch, even to slip his fingers around Geralt's, but he knows he can't. 

"You can't-"

"Jaskier," Geralt breathes, much closer than he was a moment ago, "I wouldn't do this for just anyone." Whatever protest he had prepared dies on his tongue and Jaskier chokes out a moan instead as Geralt's palm slides up his hip. "I can find someone else if it's easier for you-"

"No," Jaskier says a little too quickly. "No, please, I want _you_. Only you."

"You don't mean that," Geralt breathes, nosing at his neck. The second his lips touch skin, Jaskier moans softly. 

Tentatively, he wraps his arms around Geralt's shoulders, careful not to be too quick, too needy. He fails miserably, but Geralt doesn't seem to mind as Jaskier's fingers dig into his skin or the way he whines with every little shift of Geralt's mouth against him. Geralt's lips press against his neck, slowly moving up as Jaskier tips his head back and with a sigh. 

It does nothing to ease the burning in his skin, but it feeds another need, one much older and grounded than the lust that sears through his veins now. It's a welcome diversion but the insistence returns quickly and Jaskier finds himself squirming to get free. 

He wants to get Geralt out of the rest of his clothes, to press against him with nothing between them, indulge in every secret fantasy he's had over the last two decades - but he doesn't get a chance. Before he can move, Geralt's mouth finds his own and any thoughts are chased away by the softness of his lips.

Jaskier's hands slip into his hair and he tugs Geralt closer, biting at his bottom lip and moaning against him. Surprisingly, Geralt doesn't withdraw, he presses closer, fitting himself between Jaskier's legs. He pushes under his thighs, folding Jaskier's up and rocking against him. 

" _Geralt_ ," he moans, "oh fuck." 

Jaskier wraps his legs around him and rolls his hips, rutting shamelessly against Geralt's hip. Geralt is hard against him, and Jaskier has never felt anything so incredible in his whole life. In some way, Geralt wants this too, even if it's just for the sex. He reaches down, squeezing Geralt's ass and pressing him down against him. Geralt is surprisingly welcoming, but it only lasts a moment before he's pulling away, rising up to his knees again.

Jaskier keeps his legs around him, but he reaches up, running his palms up Geralt's chest as he rocks under him. Geralt pushes his shirt up and Jaskier shudders at the first touch of his fingers against his bare skin. He arches off the bed at the faintest nudge letting Geralt push his shirt up over his head 

Geralt's hands are rough but gentle, sliding back to his hips and Jaskier squeezes his eyes shut, dreading the moment he eventually wakes. Because this can't be real, can it? Even if he is helping him, Geralt couldn't possibly want this from him? _With_ him? Surely after all this time- His thoughts are abruptly interrupted by Geralt's mouth on his own and dexterous fingers working open his trousers. 

Geralt draws away, just as one of his hands snakes into Jaskier's trousers, wrapping around him and stroking gently. 

"Stop thinking so much," he breathes, "don't worry, I want this." He rocks his hips forward as if to prove his point and Jaskier groans. 

Geralt spares a moment, leaning over to brush a hand down the side of Jaskier's face. It's soft and intimate in comparison to the raging heat and want inside him and Jaskier melts under it, sinking back into the bed as his hips press up. A hand slides under them, holding him off the bed and Geralt holds him like that, bending down to kiss his chest. His mouth is somehow still warm against Jaskier's skin and it feels good despite him already being overheated. He craves the heat and Geralt drops him back against the bed, bending lower to kiss his way down to Jaskier's waistband. 

He takes his time licking at sucking every inch of exposed skin, tugging Jaskier's trousers out of the way when he runs out of room. When Geralt's tongue meets the vee of his hip, Jaskier squirms, grasping blindly for Geralt's head. He winds his fingers through his hair, whimpering at the intensity of it. This _is_ a sensitive spot for him, but he can't help wondering if it's just the potion that brings about this heightened sensation or if it's Geralt. Either way, his cock aches with every new touch, hips twitching up, seeking more. 

Geralt mumbles against his skin and Jaskier has no idea what he's saying, but suddenly it no longer matters because Geralt's fingers wrap around the waistband of his trousers, tugging them down without hesitation. Jaskier shuffles as Geralt sits back up, moving to help the removal of his clothes. 

His eyes are shut, but he hears the sharp inhale and then a pause as Geralt gets him naked, tossing his clothes to one side. Normally, Jaskier might be inclined to go and gather them up and fold them nicely, but when he opens his eyes, Geralt is watching him with intense concentration. His eyes are dark, pupils wide with barely a rim of gold around them and Jaskier doesn't think he has ever looked so sexy. He moves reflexively, wrapping his arms around Geralt's neck and hauling him down and kissing him hard. He gets a soft laugh in return and when Geralt draws away again he presses his face into Jaskier's neck. 

"You can't be feeling too badly," he hums, but Jaskier groans at him.

"You make it better," he breathes, "it doesn't feel so... overwhelming."

"It's not me," Geralt mumbles, "that's just how it works. If you give in to it, the desperation eases."

"That's not what I said. I said you make it better, not that I wanted this less." Geralt's laugh tickles his neck and Jaskier twists his fingers into his hair again, pressing his hips against him. 

Geralt's trousers are rough against his cock, but it feels good and Geralt is surprisingly responsive, meeting every thrust with his own. It's hardly fair that Jaskier is undressed and Geralt is not. He loosens one hand from Geralt's hair, sliding his palm down Geralt's chest. 

He wants to keep touching him, to just run his hands over Geralt's entire body, but he doesn't have the patience right now. A small part of him is regretful that he may never get the chance, but his body protests the delay. Finally, he gets his hand on Geralt's hip, shoving his trousers down just far enough to free his cock and get a hand around him. 

Geralt groans at the touch, shuffling forward to press his cock against his hand and he nips at Jaskier's neck. He works over the same spot and Jaskier shudders. He aches. He _wants_. He struggles to wrap his hand all the way around him and the thought of having that cock inside him makes him lightheaded. 

" _Geralt_ ," he pants, "please, I want you. _Please_."

Geralt barely moves, slipping a little further down his neck. He continues nipping at the skin, sucking at it, leaving soft kisses over each mark before moving further down. His tongue leaves wet spots in its wake, cooling against Jaskier's skin in the evening air, a harsh juxtaposition to the heat still simmering under his skin. 

By the time Geralt reaches his hips again, Jaskier's mind is foggy with need and his cock leaks steadily against his hip. Just as he's about to sit up, wet heat engulfs the head of his cock and Geralt's tongue slips over the head tasting him and he sucks hard as he pulls off again. Geralt looks up at him and Jaskier barely lifts his head off the pillow to see him, dropping it back with a groan. 

"You're a damned tease, Geralt of Rivia. I fear I shall grow old and die before you fuck me." 

Geralt dips to kiss his hip once more, laughing softly against his skin before rising up and climbing off the bed. He strips out of his trousers and Jaskier leans up on one elbow to watch. Geralt is magnificent and Jaskier only wishes something other than mistakenly drinking a love potion would have gotten him into his bed. The thought doesn't linger though as heat creeps back up into him, prickling at his skin now that Geralt is no longer touching him. 

He wraps a hand around himself to try and ease the ache, stroking himself slowly and squeezing around the head of his cock. It feels good but does nothing to quell the urgency. 

But Geralt returns, kneeling on the bed and sitting back on his heels. His cock just proudly from his body and Jaskier can't help but stare at the way it curves back up enticingly. He wants to get his mouth around him, but more than that he wants to climb into Geralt's lap and sit on him, wants to fuck himself on that incredible cock. 

There's the sound of a cork popping and Jaskier looks up to find Geralt spilling something over his fingers. He doesn't have to ask what it is because a second later his legs are being nudged apart and Geralt shifts, reaching back behind his balls and slipping against his hole. Jaskier's eyes drop shut involuntarily and he groans, spreading his legs further to give Geralt better access. A wave of pleasure rolls through him and he tightens his grip on his cock, stroking a little slower. 

When Geralt first presses into him, he thinks he might implode. But Geralt keeps going, pushing deeper inside him, first with one finger, then two, and he stretches him, thrusts into him until Jaskier can barely breathe - though miraculously his body remains intact. He doesn't realize he's even speaking until Geralt crawls up over him and covers his mouth with his own to quiet him. Jaskier lets himself sink into it, moaning into his mouth and pushing his fingers through his hair. 

Geralt's fingers slip from his body and Jaskier groans at the loss, but he's not wanting for long. As Geralt shifts above him, he aligns himself, nudging against Jaskier's hole with the head of his cock. Jaskier holds his breath as Geralt pushes forward, but he wraps a soothing hand around the side of Jaskier's neck, soothing him. 

"Breathe," he whispers, "relax, Jask." He rubs his thumb just under his jaw and Jaskier exhales slowly, blinking up at him. "Better?" Geralt asks and Jaskier hums, rolling his hips into him. He slides deeper and Jaskier moans softly, pressing his nose into Geralt's cheek. 

"Please," he whispers, "I need you. Please, darling." Geralt tips his head back with just his thumb, nuzzling against his neck and pressing his lips to his skin. 

He says nothing, but he moans softly as he pushes deeper and Jaskier whimpers at the stretch but he pushes back against him. As Geralt settles deep inside him, Jaskier shifts his hips, adjusting before rocking onto him again with force. Geralt is by far the biggest cock he's ever taken, but Jaskier revels in the stretch, in the intense feeling of fullness. 

Geralt fucks him slowly at first, picking up speed as Jaskier wraps around him. He's quick and hard and Jaskier is overwhelmed at just how good he is, always knowing exactly where to touch him, where to kiss him. And when he shifts his hips just so, Jaskier sees stars, 

He whimpers, arching off the bed and rolling his head back and the pleasure rushes through him, threatening to overwhelm him. He finds himself wondering again if it's just the potion or if Geralt is just a fantastic fuck. He finds it doesn't really matter as Geralt's hips snap again and he finds himself sinking back into the bed, eyes dropping shut in pleasure. 

It's not long before he's shaking, his legs twitching around Geralt's hips. He's close, so close he can practically feel it already and he can hear Geralt's arousal in every huff of breath against his ear, ever little grunt and groan as he brings him closer and closer to the edge. 

"Jaskier," he huffs, burying his face in Jaskier's neck, " _fuck_." 

"Yeah," Jaskier agrees. He pushes Geralt's head back up, biting his lip and moaning against him. 

When he comes, it's with his nose pressed against Geralt's, panting so hard he can barely think straight. Geralt buries himself deep, keeping his thrusts hard and shallow and Jaskier cups the back of his head, whispering to him. 

"Come on darling. Feels good, doesn't it?"

"Fuck, you feel good."

"That's right," Jaskier runs his fingers through his hair, taking advantage of the few moments he has left with Geralt like this. He slips his hands down his back, rolling Geralt's hips forward even as he thrust stutter and falter. 

He kisses Jaskier as he comes, shoving an arm under him and pulling him close. They fit together well, Jaskier thinks, but as Geralt comes down from the high, he rolls to the side, hauling Jaskier up against him. 

"Feel better?" he asks, pressing his nose into Jaskier's hair. 

"Very much. Thank you."

"Any time," Geralt hums shutting his eyes with a soft smile. Jaskier lets himself be pulled into a warm embrace, rolling so he's facing Geralt. “You’re sure you feel okay?”

"Really?" he asks and he thinks he's pushing his luck but Geralt just presses a kiss into his hair. 

"Hopefully next time you won't have to be _poisoned_ first." 

Jaskier pulls back to look at him, pressing a hand to his chest. "Darling, if I knew it was this easy to get you into bed I wouldn't have been downstairs long enough to drink the damn thing."

Geralt leans forward, catching his lips in a slow, passionate kiss. "I'll remember that next time."


End file.
